


How to Curse in Spanish

by Eosithe



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Connie is curious, Connie needs a friend, Cultural lessons, F/M, Friends to Hook-Ups, Javi Peña needs a hug, Living in another country is hard, Medium Burn, Spanish Lessons, Strong Female Characters, You gonna learn today, and someone to call him on his bullshit, grammar lessons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eosithe/pseuds/Eosithe
Summary: Magda gasped, "We'll make it regular thing, like Adult Muzzy! Cause we really should work on your Spanish -es muy malo."Connie was momentarily put out by the insult - despite the fact she had said it about herself first - but then smiled.  An evening with a girlfriend - a fellow American - and some dirty Spanish lessons, wrapped up with a pretty, alcohol-shaped bow? Who wouldn't be in?Javier Peña had the unfortunate habit of falling a little in love with every woman he met. But some made their way a little further under his skin than others, and, one way or another, they tended to get hurt.Magda Pereira returned to Colombia to help the underserved women of her parents' country. Determined, she swore the Cartel's particular brand of terror wouldn't scare her off. She hadn't planned on Javier Peña, though.
Relationships: Connie Murphy & Original Female Character, Connie Murphy/Steve Murphy (Narcos), Javier Peña & Steve Murphy, Javier Peña/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	1. Puta

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish vulgarities vary widely in strength and by region. What is a terrible word in one country may be totally benign in another - Spanish as a whole is a bastard like that. Proceed with caution. Or not.
> 
> Be careful directly translating English curses to Spanish. It often doesn't work, and you sound like a gringo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The punctuation marks after sentences in Spanish, if underlined, are a hyperlink to a translation.

Puta

( **Poo** -tah)

**N.** Whore, slut, bitch, fucker, motherfucker  
_Esa puta allá es la peor[.](https://translate.google.com/#view=home&op=translate&sl=es&tl=en&text=Esa%20puta%20all%C3%A1%20es%20la%20peor)  
_ **N.** Prostitute  
_Las putas caminan las calles de esto pueblo[.](https://translate.google.com/#view=home&op=translate&sl=es&tl=en&text=Las%20putas%20caminan%20las%20calles%20de%20esto%20pueblo%22)_  
 **Adj.** Fucking, motherfucking  
 _Todos los putos días de mi vida, mi hermano[.](https://www.spanishdict.com/translate/Todos%20los%20putos%20d%C3%ADas%20de%20mi%20vida%2C%20hermano.)_  
**Intens.** '...the fuck...'  
 _¿Quién puta sos[?](https://translate.google.com/#view=home&op=translate&sl=es&tl=en&text=Qui%C3%A9n%20puta%20sos)_  
**Interj.** Fuck!  
 _¡Puta!_

"Your English is really good."

The year was 1988, and Bogotá, Colombia was quiet. Quiet, that is to say, relative to the absolute shit storm headed towards the country in the next 5 years and beyond.

"I would hope so. I was born in New York."

The blonde flushed red, and stuttered to apologize.

" _No te preocupas_ \- don't worry about it. How would you have known?"

Magdalena Victoria Pereira Uribe, M.D. finished washing her hands and turned to face the other American. The woman had started at the clinic a month or so ago, though this was the first time they had a patient together. She felt bad for not introducing herself sooner - she knew that the company of a fellow ex-pat was good for the soul, but she had been so _tired_ recently.

"Magda." She offered her hand. "I'm one of the ob-gyns here, if you didn't know that already."

"Connie." She had a good handshake - firm without overdoing it, a single pump. Magda put a lot of stock in a good handshake. "One of the nurses."

"So, Nurse Connie," Magda teased, "Where are you from?"

"Miami." There was a fond smile there, with more than a hint of nostalgia and homesickness. "You said New York?"

"I did. Can I ask, what brought you down here?" A moment of hesitation, broken eye contact.

"My husband works at the U.S. Embassy." Vague and evasive, but everyone is entitled to their secrets. Especially US government employees in a hostile foreign country.

"Then he's lucky to have you here with him. You ready for the next patient?"

*

The two worked together for the rest of the day, and then again two days later.

" _¡Puta!_ " A bead of bright red blood welled up from the puncture on her finger. The offending tenaculum, thankfully just washed in bleach, clattered on the floor. "Gauze, please."

Connie hurried over with a folded piece of gauze, and picked the instrument up. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, heading to the sink to wash her hands. Connie handed her a bandage when she was done.

"What does that mean?"

Magda tilted her head and quirked her brows, not understanding.

" _Puta_ \- what does that mean?" 

Magda couldn't help but chuckle.

"You've lived here for how long, now, and Miami before, and don't know what _puta_ means?" 

Connie glowered and crossed her arms.

"Sorry that I didn't have Colombian parents with a nice house to visit every summer. You've heard my Spanish - _muy malo_[.](https://translate.google.com/#view=home&op=translate&sl=es&tl=en&text=es%20muy%20malo) I thought I knew - something along the lines of 'whore', right? But people down here use it so frequently."

Still holding pressure on the throbbing cut underneath the fabric bandage, Magda leaned back against the sink basin. She nodded at Connie.

"Well, you're not wrong. _Puta_ is an...interesting word. There's not really a good single direct translation. Kinda like 'fuck' and 'shit' rolled up into one with some extra meanings on top. It'll vary based on how it's used, and how it's said. If I say it like before, it's like 'Fuck!'. But I can also say, like, ' _oye[,](https://www.spanishdict.com/translate/oye) puta_' and if we're friends, it's like 'hey girl, what's up'. If we're not friends, it's more like 'what do you want, bitch?'. Versatile."

"Very."

"You can also use it like an adjective." Magda thought a moment, checked her watch. "How many more patients today?"

"Just two in the waiting room, last I saw."

"It's just about 4:30 now… Want to grab a drink after clinic? I can continue expand your understanding of Spanish vulgarities." She gasped, "We'll make it regular thing, like Adult Muzzy! Cause we really should work on your Spanish - _es muy malo_."

Connie was momentarily put out by the insult - despite the fact she had said it about herself first - but then smiled. An evening with a girlfriend - a fellow American - and some dirty Spanish lessons, wrapped up with a pretty, alcohol-shaped bow? Who wouldn't be in?

"Yeah, that sounds really good. Let me call my husband and let him know."

**

_"I'm not sure it's a good idea, Connie." He wasn't unreasonable with his reservation, after Elisa Álvarez, la guerillera of M-19._

_"I hear you, I do." He wasn't unreasonable, so she couldn't be either. The only way to win this was to be mature. "But I can't just not trust everyone I meet!"_

_"Sure you can. Javi and I do it all the time."_

_"Steve…please. I'd really like to get to know this woman better, I'd really like to have a friend. She's American, born in New York, she's a doctor, she didn't push when I said you work at the Embassy - "_

_"You told her that?"_

_Oops._

_"What am I supposed to say when people ask why I'm down here?"_

_"Literally anything other than that I work at the Embassy."_

_She huffed._

_"Well too late now. Wait - why am I asking for your permission? This is me telling you I'm getting drinks with a friend. Radio the guys you have on me for the address if you get out in time to join us."_

And that was that.

The last patient was seen, the exam rooms were cleaned and readied for the next day, and Connie and Magda found themselves enjoying a beer at a bar a few blocks away. A plate of patacones sat mostly eaten between them[.](https://wikipedia.com/wiki/patacones)

Half-past six and the place was getting more crowded. 'The beer is cheap and the patacones are the best in this neighborhood,' Magda had explained when people kept filing in. The patacones really were excellent.

" _Yo soy enfermera_[,](https://translate.google.com/#view=home&op=translate&sl=es&tl=en&text=enfermera)" she repeated to herself. " _Tú eres doctora. Ella es una puta_." Magda had gotten up to order them another round from the bar, the waiter busy now that tables were filling up, when Steve and Javier slid into the other two seats at the table.

" _Muy bien_ ," Javi smirked. "You learn a new word?" Connie nodded and continued, beaming.

" _Nosotros somos putos Americanos. Ellos son putos estúpidos_[.](https://www.spanishdict.com/translate/ellos%20son%20putos%20estupidos)" The men chuckled.

"You're gonna be giving him pointers soon." Javi nodded at Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, you're real funny. Where's your friend?" Steve surveyed the space around them, looking for both the woman in question and anything suspicious. Theirs wasn't a job you could leave at the office, unfortunately.

"She went to get another round. What do you guys want? I'll go let her know."

Two more beers to add to the tab, and Connie slipped into the throng of people. She returned a minute or so later carrying two glasses.

"Caught her just in time! Magda's on her way back now."

And so she was.

***

Connie seemed genuinely happy in a way that Javi hadn't seen in a while, if ever. After the debacle with the M-19 _guerillera_ , he had worried that she'd shy away from meeting new people - not that he'd ever let anyone know.

The woman who approached the table was - well, he could tell right away why Connie liked her. She was tall, and pretty, and extroverted, and all of those things immediately made her a presence. Dark hair swept back in a braid; angular, delicate features that gave her a patrician look; an elegant neck; a _very_ nice pair of tits -

"Hey, asshole," Steve called.

She also had a very expressive, open face. And she looked a mix of smug and mildly offended as she slipped into the chair next to him.

"Magdalena Victoria Pereira Uribe, mucho gusto[.](https://www.spanishdict.com/translate/mucho%20gusto) Call me Magda."

"Encantado[,](https://www.spanishdict.com/translate/encantado)" Javi mumbled, hiding his face in his beer.

"A pleasure, Magda," Steve said. "Steve Murphy, Connie's husband. That's my partner, Javier Peña." She nodded.

"I'm glad you guys could make it out! It's nice to meet other Americans. Can I ask where you're from?"

Personal questions always set off a soft alarm for him. Not that where he was from would reveal too much, since she already knew he was American and worked at the US Embassy, but it was a soft pry, and could set the tone for the rest of the evening. He and Steve shared a look.

"I'm from West Virginia," which Javi had not actually known, but was not surprised by.

"Texas," he contributed. Magda nodded.

"I've never been to either. I'm from New York. No matter, though!" She lifted her glass to the middle of the table. "A toast - to new friends, Old Glory, and _puta_ peanut butter. _¡Salud!_ "

The laugh crawling out his throat couldn't be kept down. Her smile was beatific. Yeah, he understood why Connie liked her.

He kinda did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like doing a list of translations at the end of the story, but I don't like putting them unnaturally into the story as well. To that end, whatever isn't pretty obvious (e.g. the very Connie was conjugating is 'Ser', one of two verbs for 'To Be') has a hyperlink to the translation hidden in the punctuation at the end of the phrase. It's underlined, and hopefully not distracting. 
> 
> A [tenaculum](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tenaculum). Don't be fooled into thinking that modern surgery is elegant. It's barbaric, even still.
> 
> If you don't know what [Muzzy](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muzzy_in_Gondoland) is, just go...idk, be older.
> 
> I would do a lot of things for[Peanut Butter](https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/z4ga98/finding-peanut-butter-abroad-is-nearly-impossible). I also love tostones, called patacones in Colombia. Tbh I like most food.
> 
> Also, [disfruta puta](https://www.indiewire.com/2017/09/narcos-season-3-puta-pedro-pascal-interview-1201873241/)


	2. Hijo de Puta

Hijo de Puta

( **ee** -ho deh **poo** -tah)  
 **N/B** \- Used extensively (though not exclusively) in Colombia, where 'hijo de puta' gets contracted to _hijueputa_ ( **ee** -hway **-poo** -tah) **,** and further shortened to _jueputa_ (hway- **poo** -tah)

**N.** Son of a bitch  
_Hijo de puta, cómo estás de viejo[.](https://www.spanishdict.com/translate/Hijo%20de%20puta%2C%20c%C3%B3mo%20est%C3%A1s%20de%20viejo)  
_ ******N.** Bastard, bitch, motherfucker, asshole; connotation of good or bad based on context  
_Te quiere como un hijo de gran puta[.](https://www.spanishdict.com/translate/Te%20quiere%20como%20un%20hijo%20de%20gran%20puta)  
_ ******N.** Dude, mate (when used between friends)  
_¡Oye, hijueputa! ¿Cómo vas[?](https://www.spanishdict.com/translate/Oye%2C%20hijueputa!%20%C2%BFC%C3%B3mo%20vas%3F)  
_ **Adj.** Fucking; connotation of good or bad based on context  
 _Gringos hijueputas.  
_ _Es tan jueputa, ¿sí o qué?_

It was one of those days, Magda felt. Honestly, it seemed like the whole _week_ had been 'one of those days', but this one was especially trying. There wasn't enough _cafecito_ in Colombia to restore her energy. Maybe the narcos were on to something - maybe they got into the cocaine trade because they were just really fucking tired.

She saw her patients, made her calls, wrote her notes and generally just went through the motions leading up to the hour she could go home without fully being _present_. But the end of the day rolled around and Connie was at her office door, a beam of blonde sunshine looking to hang out. Enthusiasm changed for concern quite quickly, though - the bags under her eyes must have been just about ready to go on vacation.

"Are you sure you still want to get dinner? You look…sorry, you look exhausted. We can do some other time, really!" Connie was a sweet, blessed woman. She was. And while fatigue burrowed its way into her joints and bones, a glass of wine and good company sounded lovely.

Last week had been fun, cathartic in a way that drinking with the few Colombian friends she did have just _wasn't_. Apparently Connie felt the same, as they quickly agreed to make it a weekly occurrence. A labor yesterday had required rescheduling their post-clinic plans, and she had forgotten that they had just delayed them by a day. It was Connie's day off, and so Magda hadn't seen her to be reminded until just then. She smiled.

"No, no - you're here. I'm okay. Let's go somewhere a little quieter though? I may not be up for a big bar crowd tonight." Connie nodded hesitantly, unsure. "I'm fine, really. You said you and Steve went to that street fair, right? I want to hear what you thought about it."

The walk to the restaurant was overshadowed by the actual clouds in the sky. The promise of rain hung heavy in the air, cooling down in the early evening.

"I thought it'd be hotter here," Connie said. Magda gave her a look, and hummed in question. "You know, Colombia is like half Amazon rain forest. I thought it'd be hot and humid." She snorted.

"Yeah, half jungle, but the other half is the Andes. Here in Bogotá, we're more than 8,000 feet above sea level. It rarely gets above like 70, 75 degrees.

"Now, if you go down to Cartagena, Baranquilla, or anywhere on the coast, _Dios mío_ , it's fucking hot. High 80s every day with terrible humidity. Heat index in the high-90s. Oohh here's a swear for you - _hace calor como un hijo de gran puta_. It's hot like a motherfucker."

Connie smiled, but looked wistful. "Sounds like Miami."

"You miss it?"

Connie nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"I haven't spent much time there. What do you miss most?" Her face turned contemplative, and she was quiet for a moment.

"It's hard, right? To put a finger on what exactly you miss about home. I've thought a lot about New York since I moved down here, though I haven't lived for almost, what - ten years? Not since before med school, anyway. For me, it's picking out a Christmas tree. When I was a kid, we went to one of those Christmas tree farms once and cut one down ourselves, but my dad had forgotten to bring gloves and ended up tearing up his palms, so we never did it again. But every year, we'd go look at the pre-cut trees and just," she sighed, "walking up and down the aisles of firs and spruces. I remember how it smelled, and the air was just the right side of nippy cause we went at night, after my dad got home from work, and we'd be there with running noses, arguing over which tree was best.

"To be honest, I'm not sure if that's a thing I miss about New York or about my childhood, but the two are kind of tied up in each other, right? I don't know if it'd be the same if I went, but I'll take the memory as it is."

Connie looked at her, then towards the door of the restaurant they were quickly approaching.

"That sounds really lovely," she said. "We obviously don't have the whole 'White Christmas' experience in Miami, though we did get a real tree once. It dried out in like a week. Total mess: the needles went everywhere. We found some behind the couch like a year later." She laughed as they were seated.

They continued in the same vein past their first glass of wine, when Steve and Javi joined them, and into dinner. Probably a little tipsy and definitely deep into their feels, they refused to give the conversation up.

Fourth of July - though now the sound of fireworks is a bit too similar to gun shots for comfort. Saturday college football games and their preceding tailgates. The huge subway rats of New York City, and how their vileness brought an otherwise impersonal city together in disgust. National Public Radio, and any music other than salsa and top Latin hits. American beer, too expensive for most bars in Colombia to import. Each remembered American experience came with a story.

"Girl Scout Cookies - Samoas," Magda moaned in a manner perhaps not quite appropriate for being in a public place, "I once…there's a lot I would do for a box of Samoas."

Javi raised an eyebrow at her, waiting to see if she would continue. Connie started to argue about the (incorrect) superiority of Thin Mints, though, and she took a moment to regard him too.

He was a curiosity. Quiet, soft-spoken, but with a dry wit. Connie had warned her about him and his whoring after he had brazenly looked her up and down at their first meeting. But asides from that, and that he was from Texas, now working at the US Embassy, she didn't know much more about him.

If the crow's feet were any indication, he was older than her. They told a story of a man who liked to laugh, to smile. Perhaps in a past life, one before Colombia. That, or he squinted at the sun a lot. He was active enough - his ass in those tight pants couldn't lie about that - and overall well-kempt. Thick hair and the absolutely terrible Burt Reynolds mustache that all men had right now. His dark eyes were expressive - more so than he probably wanted them to be, she thought, and definitely more than he realized. Overall attractive, in a roguish sort of way. Under different circumstances, she might have been interested. Currently, she was more interested in not getting gonorrhea.

"Oreos," he said, stubbing out a cigarette. "Sometimes you can find 'em down here, but they're usually soggy and soft."

Steve nodded, solemn. "It's a damn shame."

"The cock tease of cookies," Javi played off him. Magda snorted, then gasped again.

"Milanos. I miss how they're packaged - you think they're all gone and then you find another little tray of them underneath. And on that note," she raised her hand to get the waiter's attention, " _la carta de postres, por favor[.](https://translate.google.com/#view=home&op=translate&sl=es&tl=en&text=la%20carta%20de%20postres%2C%20por%20favor)_"

"Dessert was delicious, but the weather outside was decidedly not. Sheets of rain interrupted only when strong gusts of wind blew them away. A pitch black sky streaked with occasional lightening. And not a taxi to be seen.

The temperature had dropped further and, having been misted with rainwater while peering outside, Magda shivered. She was waiting to use the payphone to call the cab company when a jacket, body-warm, was draped over her shoulders. Turning, Javi was standing next to her, approach unheard over the general din of the restaurant. He nodded his head toward the door.

"I can drive you home."

"Oh no - that's not - I don't live close to here…" Javi raised that eyebrow again.

"That's okay, neither do I. But if you'd rather wait half an hour for a cab…"

"I…thank you, a ride sounds great."

The predominant noise in the car was the pounding of rain on the roof, though the radio played softly and Magda intermittently gave directions. She watched the yellow of street lights play over the dash, his hands on the wheel, his face. He had offered her a cigarette but, when she declined, he put the pack in his pocket without taking one for himself. She continued to wear his jacket.

"So Connie said you're a doctor."

"Yep," she gave a tired smile.

"What kind?"

"Obstetrics and gynecology." She chuckled, "Sorry if you were looking for something a little more…applicable. I can give you some names though?"

Javi shook his head. "No, no. I don't do doctors."

"Hmm…one of those, are you?" She laughed at the bashful, boyish grin he sent her way.

"So you grew up in New York - did you come down here for medical school? Go through right after high school?"

She shook her head. "No, I did undergrad and med school in the US. I came down after I finished my residency."

"Why? After going through the US system, why come down here?"

"I don't know." She looked out the window, "I just felt called, I guess."

"Fair enough." It didn't seem to be, judging by the furrow growing between his brows. Magda shifted in her seat, turning sideways to face him more directly. The rain on the windshield cast shadows on his face, and a coiling, defensive feeling grew in her chest. "And have you always worked at that clinic?"

"Part of getting my license down here is to complete a one-year internship of 'social service'. I applied in Bogotá, and the clinic fulfills the requirements."

"And Connie?"

"What do you mean?"

"She was working at the clinic for a few weeks before you decided to hang out. Why approach her now?"

Understanding bloomed and she saw the offer of a ride for the interrogation opportunity that it was. Her face shutting down, she could tell, and when she spoke, her voice sounded cold. Later, she would address the confusion and curiosity of this conversation but now, tired and drained as she was, anger and betrayal dominated.

"She was working for the family practitioner, she wasn't seeing my patients. My former nurse quit, so they put Connie with me. I liked her, she's curious and passionate and good at what she does, and she seemed like she was looking for a friend too. That enough?"

"I'm just trying to understand -," She imagined him trying to salvage this, to stop sounding like he was pushing for information. To convince her that this was friendly conversation. "You go through the hassle of medical training in the States, then move down here once you're set to start making actual money. You have family in Pereira but settle in Bogotá. You manage to end up at a communist-affiliated clinic - "

"What?!"

"- and only now are you approaching the only other American there, one who happens to have ties to the US Embassy." She had certainly imagined him keeping up the pretense.

"Fuck, what are you - CIA? Can we do this some other time?"

"What's wrong with right now?"

She glared at him as he stared back at her. And maybe it wasn't her smartest decision but, _fuck_. She always had been good at ignoring that little voice that advised her against doing questionable things, going to questionable places. Now, feeling a little mouthy in her exhaustion, she gave it to him.

"I don't owe you my life story. I don't owe you jack shit. You’re a friend of Connie's though, so I want to try to get along with you, but I'm also currently content to let you be suspicious of me for a while longer, because I've had a shit day, and I'm just not feeling up for an inquisition.

"You want to know about me? Here's a story: I was up all last night with my housekeeper's cousin because the girl was having a miscarriage. She's 13. She's 13 fucking years old, and she's having a miscarriage because she's malnourished, underweight and way too fucking young to be pregnant. _That's_ why I'm down here.

"So if you have a business card _, Secret Agent Peña_ , I'll call tomorrow and make an appointment for my deposition. But right now, _hijueputa_ , you can let me off at the corner, and I'll make my own way home."

The sound of the car doors locking broke the silence left hanging for the pregnant moment after her rant. Her adrenaline spiked as he passed through the intersection she had indicated and the gun on the center console, which truthfully must have been there the whole time, suddenly seemed glaringly large. She had the sweeping realization that maybe she was in over her head.

Turning to face forward, she stared determinedly out the windshield. Out of sheer, blind stubbornness, she pulled up on the lock pin of the car door.

"Please -" Javi spoke, softly. "Don't jump out. I - Let me drive you home."

She thought for a moment. He didn't relock the doors and she had the impression that, should she ask again, he would pull over. She nodded.

He turned the radio up, and the only conversation was her directions.

*

The phone rang.

"Peña," he answered.

"Hello," a woman's voice. "It's me." A pause. "Magda, sorry. It's Magda - I'm…me."

His surprise showed on his face, and he was glad Murphy was not around to see it. After the disastrous car ride last night, he hadn't expected to hear from her again. Ever. In fact, he was sure he'd be un-invited from her weekly outings with Connie and Steve. And though she had asked, he didn't have a business card to give her.

"Connie gave me your number." One thing explained. "I wanted to…talk? I don't know. I'm not apologizing, cause you were an asshole last night. But you caught me at a bad moment and I maybe wasn't as composed as I usually am. And Connie told me - about why you might be a little…you know."

Apparently Connie had also told her to be careful talking on the phone about things that might get him and Steve imprisoned for treason, too.

"I was...I shouldn't have. And I apologize, for cornering you. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me." So defensive, she was. Which surprised him - he had her pinned as someone who laughed things off.

"You jumped when I put the car in park."

"I - well - the gear shift is really loud. You should have that looked at." It was certainly no louder and no more damaged than any other car in Colombia. But he wouldn't push it, wouldn't tell her how pale she turned when he had locked the doors, scared she would jump out into the dark and the rain and the traffic behind them that wouldn't see her in time to stop.

"I apologize regardless."

"…Thank you." He heard her sigh. "I meant what I said, last night. I want you to trust me. I'm not saying I need you to like me or anything, but I'm happy to have Connie as a friend, and that means spending time with you too, I guess. I…let me know when I can come in to talk."

"You really don't - "

"You have questions. And you're asking them because you're looking out for people that I'm starting to care about. I don't owe you anything, but I don't mind. I'm free tomorrow, if that works for you?"

"I…it does."

"Okay. What time? Or should I just stop by whenever?"

"Why don't we do dinner?"

She hesitated.

"Unless you prefer burnt office coffee and stale Nilla Wafers?"

A pause, then, "Yeah dinner sounds way better. Just to be clear, you're not - this isn't a date, right?"

"No. Though it is my treat." She laughed.

"Sounds good. I'll call you tomorrow when I have an idea of when I'll be off?"

"That's fine."

"…Javi - is the clinic really - " Her voice was soft, hesitant. He wondered if he should tell her the truth.

"Yes." If she was going out of her way to be honest with him, he could afford her the same courtesy.

"…I didn't know."

"I didn't think you did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter legit fought me. Every time I sat down to write, I'd get this awesome scene from further down the story line that was like 'oh hey write me instead' and at a certain point I just had to get something out, then edit it, and publish so I can move on. Will this probably be edited and changed a lot in the future? Who knows, I'm feeling kinda bitter about it right now and would basically like to just move on.
> 
> My major self indulgence here was to debunk this myth that [Bogotá](https://weather-and-climate.com/average-monthly-Rainfall-Temperature-Sunshine,Bogota,Colombia) is this hot and humid hellhole, which seems to be the setting in many other Narcos stories. Javi Peña wears his shirts half unbuttoned because he wants to, not because he needs extra surface area to evaporate from.
> 
> [Cocaine](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cocaine#Discovery) comes from the coca plant, whose leaves were chewed by indigenous peoples of South America for its energizing properties.
> 
> [Burt Reynolds](https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2018/entertainment/amp-stories/burt-reynolds-mustache-through-the-years/) truly had an iconic mustache. And shockingly looks kinda like Pedro Pascal?
> 
> Unpopular opinion, but the Pepperidge Farm [Milano](http://www.slate.com/articles/life/the_completist/2012/09/pepperidge_farm_cookies_what_i_learned_about_life_from_the_milano_the_verona_the_geneva_.html) is an inferior cookie to the Bordeaux, which provides a better crunch, better aftertaste and just more luxurious cookie mouth feel.
> 
> [Disfruta y'all](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yS1qV8FBuUg)

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if the Spanish is off - it's my 3rd language, but I claim some decent handling of it. No google translate up in this bitch - we die like women. Let me know if you spot an error. **Quién puta sos uses the _voseo_ form, which was heard extensively in Season 3, set in Cali. It isn't used so much in Bogotá or amongst the political class, so far as my research (and my ears) can tell. I'm gonna touch on this in a later chapter.
> 
> I put a lot of research into (most) aspects of this story, but I am a product of the 90s, and so the late 80s/early 90s aren't a time I'm super familiar with. I've tried to avoid anachronisms, but some may have slipped through. Shockingly, the important questions like "were Mallomars sold in Bogotá in 1988" are not readily answerable, even with Google. Logic tells me no, considering we don't even ship them year round throughout the States in 2020. If anyone has first-hand insight, I remain curious and hopeful for the people of Bogotá.
> 
> If you feel so moved, let me know your favorite Spanish curse in the comments.


End file.
